No Exit
by Dede42
Summary: When Jo runs off to investigate her own case, Ellen sends the Winchesters after her daughter to help solve the case and bring her back to the Roadhouse safely. The case is that blonde young women are disappearing from an apartment complex without any trace, save for some black goo. Will they solve the case or will Jo become the next victim of the serial killer ghost?
1. Chapter 1: JO'S CASE

Supernatural: No Exit

A/N: I'm back! And boy am I looking forward to tomorrow since this has been a _long_ week for me, especially since two days ago, I attended my grandmother's funeral, and today I babysat my nephews for a few hours and I'm exhausted. _

Read, review, and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from _Supernatural_ or _Criminal Minds_. I just own any and all characters that I just happen create.

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><p><strong>CHAPTER ONE: JO'S CASE<strong>

"_Thou shalt not see thy brother's ox or his sheep go astray, and hide thyself from them: thou shalt in any case bring them again unto thy brother__."_

_Deuteronomy 22: 1_

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Three weeks ago…

It was nighttime in one of the first major cities of the United States, and in one of the apartment complexes, a tenant was having troubles with the lights in her flat.

The young blonde woman, who was attending the local college, was pacing under the flickering lights, and was talking on the phone with a _very_ annoyed tone.

"I checked the fuses," she told the landlord as she sat down on the couch. "They're fine. It's the wiring. Look, you promised the place would be ready when I moved in. No. You come up now! Please. Thank you."

Huffing, she clicked the cordless phone off and set it aside; she then grimaced at something on the table, she reached out a finger and dabbed at a strange thick black goo that hadn't been there a second ago.

"Gross," she groaned, quickly wiping it on a paper napkin. Just then, more goo dripped on her shoulder. She looked up at the ceiling, but couldn't find a source, and she was now getting scared. Standing, she went over to the light switch by the wall, and discovered that more of the goo was oozing thickly out of it.

"What the hell?" she muttered as more of the goo dropped onto her shoulder again; creeped out, she looked deeper into the light switch. A creepy, bloodshot eye appeared, and she screamed, backing away.

* * *

><p>Present day…<p>

The Winchesters were heading for Philadelphia; a few days before, they'd promised Ellen that they would go to the city to look after Jo, who'd run away to work a case that she'd been researching for a while now, and they'd promised to bring Jo back to the Roadhouse safely once the case was done.

"So, what'd you got?" Dean asked after passing a sign that informed them that they were halfway to their exit, and nodded to the file that Sam was looking through.

"Well, I have to give Jo some credit," Sam commented. "She's done her homework. Anyways, according to this: three weeks ago a young girl disappeared from a Philadelphia apartment, and it turns out that she wasn't the first. Over the past eighty years six women have vanished. All from the same building, and all were young blondes. Only happens every decade or two so the cops never noticed the pattern. So we're either dealing with one very old serial killer, or –"

"Or we're dealin' with something that likes blondes," Dean finished. "Which means Jo's setting herself up as bait."

Liz tsked. "Good thing we don't have Penelope or JJ here with us."

"Same here," Sam agreed, still looking through the file. "I think I'll send all of this to Garcia and see if she can do more research for us while we track down Jo and figure out what we're dealing with," he suggested, getting positive agreement from Dean and Liz.

* * *

><p>Jo didn't like arguing with her mom and even running out on her like this, but she was <em>determined<em> to work this case herself, and prove that she could be a great hunter just like her late father.

'_At least mom isn't blaming Dean, Sam, and Liz for what happen to my dad and their dad all those years ago,'_ she thought as she used her charm on the landlord in order to gain access to the apartment that the woman had disappeared from three weeks before.

"Oh, it's wonderful," she gushed as she entered the flat and pretended to admire the place, which was fully furnished, and turned to smile brightly at the man waiting in the doorway. "I'll take it." And was about to pay him-

"Hey, honey," Dean said, side-stepping the surprised landlord and strode right over to Jo, who was doing her best to hide her own shock, and wrapped an arm around her waist while both Sam and Liz waited in the hallway. "So, you're gonna get this sweet place?"

"Of course, sweetie," Jo responded as she _accidentally_ stepped on his foot. "This is my boyfriend Dean and I'm sure that his buddies Sam and Liz are waiting out in the hallway."

The landlord nodded, getting over his surprise. "Good to meetcha," he responded. "Quite a gal you've got here."

"Oh yeah, she's a pistol," Dean agreed, smacking Jo's ass.

"Oh…um, Ed, when did the last tenant move out?" Jo asked.

"Oh, about a month ago," the landlord answered. "Cut and run, too. Stick me for the rent."

"Well. Her loss, our gain!" Dean declared, smacking her ass again. "'Cause if Joanna loves it, it's good enough for me."

"Oh, sweetie," Jo asked while mentally vowing to kill him for using her full name; she then pulled out a wad of cash. "We'll take it."

* * *

><p>Once the landlord was gone and they'd gotten all of their gear into the apartment, Jo confronted the Winchesters, who were now using EMF readers to search the apartment.<p>

"_What_ are you guys doing here?" she demanded angrily.

"Your mom sent us," Dean answered as they continued searching. "You getting anything?" he asked his siblings, getting two negatives.

Jo frowned. "What, to drag me back to her?" she asked.

Dean shook his head. "Nope, to help you with this case, and _then_ take you back home once it's solved."

Jo rolled her eyes. "Of course, she doesn't think I can do a simple hunt on my own."

Liz sighed. "Jo, we don't know what we're dealing with just yet," she pointed out. "And until we do, I don't recommend calling this case a simple hunt …it might be a bad one."

Sam was checking the walls and was running his reader over the light switch, when it started purring. Positive that he had something, he leaned over to examine the light switch and saw something strange. "What's that?"

"What?" Dean asked as he, Liz, and Jo joined him.

Unsure, Sam reached out, touched the goo, and held up his fingers to examine it; after a few seconds, he realized what it was. "Holy crap."

"That's ectoplasm," Dean realized, showing some of the goo to Liz, who grimaced, and Jo. "Well, Sam, Liz, Jo, I think I know what we're dealing with here. It's the Stay-Puff Marshmallow Man."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean, I've only seen this stuff, like, twice," he pointed out. "I mean…to make this stuff you have to be one majorly pissed off spirit."

Dean nodded, fully agreeing with that statement. "All right, let's find this badass before he snags any more girls."

* * *

><p>Soon, the Winchesters and Jo were cleaning their weapons and going over blueprints and pictures that Penelope had sent their way, adding to what Jo had managed to find either on her own or with Ash's help.<p>

"I'll flip you for the sofa," Jo told Dean teasingly, and the oldest Winchester rolled his eyes, cleaning his handgun.

"Where'd you get all that money from, anyways?" Liz asked.

Jo smiled. "Working, at the Roadhouse."

Dean had a hard time believing that. "Hunters don't tip that well," he pointed out.

Jo smirked. "Well, they aren't that good at poker, either." She then sat down at the table and began flipping a small knife as she gestured to the blueprints and photos. "This place was built in 1924," she explained while Dean began pacing. "It was originally a warehouse, converted into apartments a few months ago."

"Yeah? What was here before 1924?" Dean asked.

Jo shrugged. "Nothing. Empty field."

"So, most likely scenario, someone died bloody in the building, and now he's back and raising hell," Sam suggested.

"Ash and I already checked," Jo informed him. "In the past eighty two years, zero violent deaths. Unless you count a janitor who slipped on a wet floor." She then looked at Dean. "Would you sit down, please?"

Reluctantly, Dean sat down. "So, have you checked police reports, county death records…?" he began.

"Obituaries, mortuary reports and seven other sources," Jo interrupted. "I know what I'm doing."

Dean didn't look convince. "I think the jury's still out on that one. Could you put the knife down?" he requested, and she reluctantly did so.

"Nice knife, Jo," Liz commented.

"Thanks."

"Okay! So, uh, it's something else, then," Sam said, thinking. "Maybe some kind of cursed object that brought a spirit with it."

Jo brightened up. "Well, we've got to scan the whole building. Everywhere we can get to, right?"

Dean nodded. "Right. So. You and me, we'll take the top two floors," he told her.

Jo frowned. "We'd move faster if we split up."

Dean shook his head firmly. "Oh, this isn't negotiable."

* * *

><p>A while later, Jo and Dean were walking down a dim hallway with EMF readers.<p>

"So. You gonna buy me dinner?" Jo inquired.

Dean frowned at her, not understanding. "What are you talking about?"

Jo smirked. "It's just if you're gonna ride me this close it's only decent you buy me dinner."

Dean scoffed. "Oh, that's hilarious. If you think I'm letting you out of my sight…I don't know if you've noticed, but you're kind of the spirit's type."

Jo grinned. "Exactly."

"You wanna be bait?" Dean asked, shocked.

"Quickest way to draw it out and you know it," Jo teased.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Oh."

"What?" Jo asked.

Dean groaned. "I'm _so_ regretting this."

Jo stopped walking and faced him, annoyed. "You know, I've had it up to here with your crap."

"Excuse me?" Dean asked.

"Your chauvinist crap," Jo snapped. "You think women can't do the job."

"Sweetheart, this ain't gender studies," Dean retorted. "Women can do the job fine. I mean, look at Liz; I've seen her cut the head off a vampire _without_ even wincing. Amateurs can't. You have no experience. What you do have is a bunch of half-baked romantic that some barflies put in your head."

Jo rolled her eyes. "Now you sound like my mother."

"Oh, and that's a bad thing?" Dean asked. "Because let me tell you…" but he didn't finish the sentence.

"What?" Jo asked.

Dean shook his head. "Forget it."

Jo wasn't about to let him off the hook. "No, you started this."

Dean sighed. "Jo, you've got options," he finally told her. "No one in their right mind chooses this life. My dad started Liz and I in this when we were so young…I wish I could do something else. And so does Liz."

Jo frowned. "You love the job."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, but I'm a little twisted."

Jo chuckled. "You don't think I'm a little twisted too?"

Dean sighed. "Jo, you've got a mother that worries about you, who wants something more for you. Those are good things. You don't throw things like that away. Might be hard to find later."

And they resumed walking; while Dean turned the corner, Jo stopped in front of a grate. She was so focused on her EMF reader, that she didn't notice a dark hand sliding through the holes towards her legs; feeling a sudden chill down her spine, she turned around, gasping.

"What?" Dean asked, halfway down the hallway.

Jo shivered, despite her jacket. "I'm not sure."

Dean rejoined her and his nose twitched as something in the air caught his attention. "You smell that?"

Jo sniffed. "What is that, a gas leak?"

Dean shook his head, frowning. "No. Something else. I know it. I just can't put my finger on it."

Jo crouched by the grating, and her EMF reader began purring.

"Mazel Tov," Dean said, putting away his own EMF reader. "You just found your first spirit."

Jo nodded. "It's inside the vent."

Dean crouched next to her, shining his flashlight through the grate for a few seconds, and then handed it to her. "Here." He pulled out a screwdriver and unscrewed the grating, pulling it off the wall, having spotted something. "There's something in there. Here."

He then reached his arm inside, feeling around; he pulled his hand out, holding a clump of bloody, blond hair. "Somebody's keeping souvenirs."

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, another young blonde woman entered her apartment, carrying mail; she dropped her bag on the counter and started opening a letter, muttering to herself. While she was reading the letter, which was an invite to a party, some black goo dripped from the ceiling onto the paper; grimacing, she crumbled up the paper and tossed in the garbage. Just then, the lights flickered; looking up, she saw a large crack appear in the ceiling.<p>

"This building, I swear to God," she grumbled.

A loud scraping sound pulled her eyes back up; a long crack was moving across the ceiling. Panicked, she ran and picked up the phone, but got only static.

"Screw it, I'm out of here."

She ran to the door and tried to open it, but it refused to open. Hearing a new noise, she looked down by a grating near the floor; a pair of creepy slimy hands suddenly reached out and grabbed her legs. She screamed as they pulled her to the floor.

* * *

><p>AN: The evil spirit strikes again! R&R everyone!


	2. Chapter 2: A FAMOUS KILLER

Supernatural: No Exit

A/N: I'm back! So, this has been a tough week for me due to work, but that's real life and has nothing to do with my fanfiction work, and so I'm not gonna rant about it anymore.

Read, review, and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from _Supernatural_ or _Criminal Minds_. I just own any and all characters that I just happen create.

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER TWO: A FAMOUS KILLER<strong>

"_Yea, for thy sake are we killed all the day long; we are counted as sheep for the slaughter__."_

_Psalms 44: 22_

Early the next morning, Dean was asleep and was twisted up in a very awkward sleep-position on a leather recliner; sirens sounded nearby and he woke, groaning. Jo was sitting at the table, twirling her knife and studying notes and blueprints.

"Morning, princess," she said cheerfully.

Dean glowered at her as he attempted to straighten his back. "Where's Sam and Liz?"

"Went to get coffee," Jo answered, continuing to twirl the knife between her fingers with a skill that indicated that she'd practiced a lot.

Dean got up slowly, grimacing. "Ugh. My back," he groaned. "How'd you sleep on that big soft bed?"

"I didn't," Jo responded, missing Dean's exasperated expression. "Just been going over everything."

Dean looked down at her, considering; walking over, he placed a bag onto the table and pulled out a Bowie knife. He unsnapped it from the sheath and handed it to her, hilt-first.

"Here."

"What's this for?" Jo asked, eying the bigger knife.

Dean nodded to the smaller knife. "Work a hell of a lot better than that little pig-sticker you're twirling around."

Frowning, Jo took the knife, and then handed him hers. He studied it, and saw engraved on the blade: W.A.H. He looked up at Jo, getting it.

"William Anthony Hartville," she answered grimly.

"I'm sorry," Dean apologized, handing it back to her. "My mistake." He took his knife back, sheathing it.

"What do you…what do you remember about your dad?" Jo asked, surprising Dean. "I mean, what's the first thing that pops into your head?" he shook his head, clearly not wanting to talk about it, but she persisted. "Come on, tell me."

Dean sighed and sat down. "I was six or seven, and uh, he took me shooting for the first time," he told her. "Liz was looking after Sam. So, you know, bottles on a fence, that kind of thing. I bulls-eyed every one of 'em. He gave me this smile, like…I don't know."

Jo smiled. "He must have been proud."

Dean was certain that she was right. "What about your dad?" he asked.

"I was still in pigtails when my dad died, but I remember him coming home from a hunt," Jo responded wistfully. "He'd burst through that door like, like Steve McQueen or something. And he'd sweep me up in his arms, and I'd breathe in that old leather jacket of his. And my mom, who was sour and pissed from the minute he left, she started smiling again. And we were…we were a family. You wanna know why I want to do the job? For him. It's my way of being close to him. Now tell me what's wrong with that."

Dean smiled sadly. "Nothing."

Just then, both Sam and Liz burst through the door.

"Where's the coffee?" he asked.

"There are cops outside," Sam told them, breathing hard. "Another girl disappeared."

* * *

><p>A few hours later, Sam and Jo were studying the notes, a little more urgently than before. Both Dean and Liz returned, shutting the door.<p>

"Teresa Ellis, Apartment 2F," Dean announced. "Boyfriend reported her missing around dawn."

"And her apartment?" Jo asked.

"Cracks all over the plaster, walls, ceiling," Liz answered. "There was ectoplasm, too."

Sam sighed, sorting through some papers. "Well, between that and that tuft of hair I'd say this sucker's coming from the walls. _Literally_."

"But who is it?" Dean wondered as he and Liz joined them at the table. "Building's history is totally clean."

Jo realized something and quickly picked up a photograph. "Well, maybe we're looking in the wrong place."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

Jo handed them the picture. "Check this out."

Sam took the photo and looked at it. "An empty field?"

"It's where this building was built," Jo told them. "Take a look at the one next door. The windows."

The Winchesters did take a closer look and soon saw what she meant. "Bars."

"We're next door to a prison?" Dean asked.

"I'm calling Garcia," Liz said and got out her phone while Jo went to call Ash.

* * *

><p>Unfortunately it turned out that Penelope Garcia was unavailable to help this time, and so they had to resort to Ash for help.<p>

"Thanks, Ash. And if you breathe a word of this to my mom…" Jo threatened. "That's right. I will. With pliers." She then closed her phone. "Okay. Moyamensing prison. Built in 1835, torn down in 1963. And get this. They used to execute people by hanging them in the empty field next door."

"Well, then, we need a list," Sam said. "All the people executed there."

Jo grinned. "Ash is already on it."

* * *

><p>Soon Sam was scrolling down a <em>very<em> long list of names on his laptop, using his left hand since he still had the cast on his right hand. "A hundred fifty seven names?"

Dean sighed. "We've gotta narrow that down."

"Yeah," Liz agreed. "Or else we're gonna be digging up a _hell_ of a lot of stiffs."

Nodding, Sam scrolled down until he reached the name HERMAN WEBSTER MUDGETT and clicked on it, frowning. "Herman Webster Mudgett?"

"Yeah?" Jo asked.

Sam knew that the name was familiar, and then it clicked. "Wasn't that H. H. Holmes' real name?"

Both Dean and Liz gasped, realizing that he was right. "You've gotta be _kiddin'_ me."

Dean took over at the laptop and did more research, confirming their suspicions. "Yep. Holmes was executed at Moyamensing, May 7, 1896."

"H. H. Holmes himself," Sam chuckled. "Come on, I mean, what are the odds?"

"Unbelievable," Liz agreed.

"Who is this guy?" Jo asked.

"The term "multi-murderer." They coined it to describe Holmes," Dean explained. "He was America's first serial killer, before anybody knew what a serial killer was."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, "he confessed to twenty seven murders, but some put the death toll at over a hundred."

"And not all of the bodies were ever found," Liz added.

Dean nodded. "And his victim flavor of choice? Pretty petite blondes. He, uh, he used chloroform to kill 'em." He then realized something. "Which is what I smelled in the hallway last night. At his place, cops found human remains, bone fragments, and long locks of bloody blonde hair." He smirked at Jo. "Boy, you sure know how to pick 'em."

Jo shrugged. "Well, we just find the bones, salt 'em and burn 'em, right?"

"Well, it's not that easy," Sam admitted. "His body is buried in town, but it's encased in a couple tons of concrete."

Jo frowned. "What? Why?"

"The story goes that he didn't want anybody mutilating his corpse," Dean explained. "'Cause, you know, that's what he used to do."

"Most of his killings took place during the 1893 World's Fair when it was held in Chicago," Liz added, pulling a book out of her bag. "Erik Larson gives full details in his book: _The Devil in the White City_. Man, if the BAU team was here right now, they'd _jump_ for a chance to interview this guy."

"You know somethin'," Sam said, realizing something when Liz had mentioned Chicago. "We might have an even bigger problem than that."

Jo, already feeling overwhelmed, looked at him. "How does this get bigger?"

"Holmes built an apartment building in Chicago," Sam explained, pulling out several pictures of the building. "He did as part of the World Fair, and he called it the Murder Castle. The whole place was a death factory, they had, uh, trap doors, acid vats, quick line pits…he built these secret chambers inside the walls. He'd lock his victims in and kept them alive for days. Some he'd suffocate, others he'd let starve to death."

"So Teresa could still be alive," Jo remarked. "She could be inside these walls."

"We need sledgehammers, crowbars," Dean stated. "We've got to smash these walls, anywhere thick enough to hide a girl."

* * *

><p>A few hours later, Dean and Jo were squeezing through the crawlspaces inside the building walls, and Jo was on the phone.<p>

"Okay. Call us after you both check the southeast wall," she said before closing her phone. "Sam and Liz are almost done with the first floor. Hasn't found jack squat either."

Just then, Dean stopped. "What is it?"

"It's too narrow," Dean reported, shining his flashlight into a narrow area that his shoulders wouldn't fit in. "Can't go any further."

"Let me see," Jo requested.

"What are you-" Dean began when she squeezed past him and he grunted. "Ugh. Shoulda cleaned the pipes."

"What?" Jo asked.

"I, uh, I wish the pipes were cleaner," Dean lied as he was pressed against the pipes in question.

"Shut up," Jo snapped as she finally got through. "I can fit in there."

"You're not going in there by yourself," Dean protested.

Jo gave him a sharp look. "You got a better idea?"

"You-" Dean began and then shut his mouth, fuming.

Jo smirked. "Uh-huh." She continued down the tight space past Dean, and disappeared around a corner.

Worried, Dean called her. "Where are you?"

* * *

><p>"On the north wall," Jo answered, found an air duct and started climbing down it. "I'm heading down some kind of air duct."<p>

_`"No, no, no, no, stay up here,"`_ Dean pleaded.

Jo sighed. "Look, we've gotta find this girl, don't we? I'm okay."

* * *

><p>Dean quickly studied the blueprints since he knew that she was right. "All right. I'm heading to you."<p>

* * *

><p>Jo continued climbing down; she reached a similar space on a lower level and pressed on until she got stuck between some pipes; just then, the all-too-familiar black goo started pouring out from the wall cracks.<p>

"Oh god."

_`"What is it? Jo? Jo!"`_ Dean asked over the phone.

Jo screamed.

* * *

><p>Worried, Dean ran down to the lower level, trying to hear where she was.<p>

"Jo!"

He took the sledgehammer he was carrying and smashed a large hole in the wall. He poked his head in and looked around with his flashlight until he found where Jo had been; her cell phone was lying on the floor. She was gone._ 'Damn it! Ellen is _so_ going to kill me!'_

* * *

><p>AN: And H.H. Holmes claims another victim! Mwahahahahaha! R&R everyone!


	3. Chapter 3: GOING UNDERGROUND

Supernatural: No Exit

A/N: I'm back and here's the final chapter of this story!

Read, review, and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from _Supernatural_ or _Criminal Minds_. I just own any and all characters that I just happen create.

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER THREE: GOING UNDERGROUND<strong>

"_The Lord lifteth up the meek: he casteth the wicked down to the ground__."_

_Psalms 147: 6_

Panicking, Dean rushed back up the hallway, running headlong into Sam and Liz.

"Whoa!"

"Hey!"

"He's got Jo," Dean gasped.

"What? How'd that happen?" Sam asked.

"I wasn't with her, I left her alone," Dean told them. "Dammit!"

Both Sam and Liz grabbed their big brother, who was on the verge of running off again. "Hey, hey, look, we'll find her, all right?"

"Yeah, so do some deep breathing to calm down," Liz advised.

"Where?" Dean asked, taking several deep breaths.

"Inside the walls," Sam answered.

Dean shook his head, clearly upset. "We've been inside the walls all night. None of the other girls were there, she won't be either."

* * *

><p>Sam and Liz took Dean back to the apartment and began going over what they had again while he paced.<p>

"Look. We've just gotta take a beat and think about this," Sam recommended. "Maybe we got Holmes' M.O. wrong."

"Yeah, well, we'd better friggin' think fast," Dean growled, fearing that he would have to let Ellen know that they'd failed to protect Jo, which meant breaking their promise. He hadn't told Sam or Liz about the failed hunt that'd cost Jo's father his life or that Ellen had blamed their dad for the _longest_ time.

* * *

><p>Two hours later, Sam and Liz were still researching and Dean was still pacing; he turned to his siblings after ten more minutes passed.<p>

"Tell me you've got something.

"Uh, maybe. Look," Sam said, having spread the blueprint of the complex out in front of him. "You look at the layout of the Holmes murder castle, there's all the torture chambers inside the walls, right?"

Dean nodded. "Right."

"But there's one we haven't considered yet," Sam told them. "The one in this basement."

Dean and Liz exchanged a confused look. "This building doesn't have a basement."

Sam nodded. "You're right, it doesn't. But I just noticed this. Beneath the foundation, it looks like part of an old sewer system that hasn't been used for-"

"Let's go," Dean cut in, grabbed his jacket and left, and both Sam and Liz followed.

* * *

><p>With a small gasp, Jo woke in a small, dark place, lying on her back, and she still had her flashlight; she shined it around to reveal a wall wood a few inches above her face - it had long scratches gouged in it. She sobbed with a hand over her face, and then collected herself. To her right was another wood panel with a slit; looking through she could see a larger, round chamber with similar compartments to the one she was in around it. She heard a noise.<p>

"Hello?"

Teresa was in another compartment peered through the slit, revealing that she had a bloodied cut on her forehead. "Is - is anybody there?"

"Your name's Teresa?" Jo asked.

Teresa nodded. "Yes."

Jo was relieved that she was still alive. "This won't make you feel better, but I'm here to rescue you."

Teresa heard something coming and began to panic. "Oh god. He's out there, he's gonna kill us!"

"No, he won't," Jo promised. "We're getting out. My friends are looking for us, they'll find us."

Just then, quiet footsteps fell nearby as the spirit approached.

"Oh god, it's him!" Teresa moaned.

"Shh! Just be quiet!" Jo hissed as everything went _very_ quiet; then the Creepy Hand burst through into Jo's prison and grabbed her by the head. She screamed as it ripped off a chunk of her hair.

* * *

><p>The next morning, the Winchesters, armed with a metal detector and two shovels, respectively, searching the streets of Philadelphia; they followed the trail into an open field until Sam stopped over one spot, the metal detector whining.<p>

"Here."

Dean dropped his bag and both he and Liz started digging furiously. After some shovel work, they dug with their hands to uncover a metal trap door, which Sam easily pulled open. Dean handed both Sam and Liz a shotgun each, and took one for himself, and a flashlight, then started descending with both Liz and Sam following.

* * *

><p>Jo was kicking steadily and furiously on the wall of her wooden cell; she dropped back in exhaustion. She heard footsteps approaching and turned; a scraggly-bearded mouth appeared at the opening.<p>

_`"You're _so_ pretty,"`_ H. H. Holmes told her._ `"_So_ beautiful."`_

"Go to _hell_!" Jo hissed.

Holmes reached through the opening and fondled her; Jo turned away and groaned in disgust and horror. Suddenly she turned, stabbing into the hand with her knife. The spirit fled, screaming.

"How do you like that?" Jo shouted. "Pure iron, you creepy-ass son of a bitch!"

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, the Winchesters crawled along on elbows and knees through the narrow sewer tunnels, which wasn't easy for Sam since he was taller.<p>

* * *

><p>Jo lay very still, listening.<p>

"Is he gone?" Teresa asked, scared.

Jo tried to look around. "I don't know."

Just then, Holmes grabbed Jo by the arm again, pulled her back, making her drop her knife, and clamped a hand down over her mouth.

_`"Shhh."`_

Jo struggled, trying to scream but she was gagged by Holmes' hand.

* * *

><p>"Hey!" Dean shouted, getting the spirit's attention; he then fired his gun into Holmes' chest, sending him flying backwards and out of sight thanks to the rock salt rounds. "Jo?!"<p>

_`"I'm here!"`_ Jo shouted.

Dean climbed out of the entrance, found an iron bar leaning against a wall and started to pry open Jo's prison with it. Meanwhile, both Sam and Liz investigated the other compartments; one contained gruesome body parts, and then they found Teresa.

"We're gonna get you out of here, all right?" Sam told her.

Finally, Dean got the front of the prison opened. "Sam! Liz!" he then tossed the bar to Sam, who immediately went to work on freeing Teresa with Liz's help. "Hang on." He then opened the compartment to let Jo out. "You all right?"

"Been better," Jo answered, slightly wobbly. "Let's get the hell out of here before he comes back."

"Actually, I don't think you're leaving here just yet," Dean said, having formed a plan in his mind on the way there.

Jo stared at him, confused. "What?"

"Remember when I said you being bait was a bad plan?" Dean asked, and Jo nodded. "Now it's kind of the only one we got." He then turned to Liz and Sam, who had an armful of terrified Teresa, and he shrugged.

* * *

><p>A while later, Jo was sitting alone, silently, in the middle of the chamber; she had her arms wrapped around her knees and was trembling, but breathing deeply and steadily. Just then, Holmes appeared behind her, and he walked forward; when he got <em>very<em> close-

"Now!" Dean shouted from one of the openings.

Jo dove forward as the Winchesters fired at something on the walls; several bags unrolled and split salt in a perfect circle around Holmes, trapping him. Dean pulled Jo to safety while Holmes circled, gibbering and screaming in terror.

"Scream all you want, you dick, but there's no way you're stepping over that salt!" Jo shouted, and a grate slammed shut, sealing off the room and Holmes' continued screaming.

* * *

><p>A while later, Jo and Sam were standing at the entrance to the sewers, looking down.<p>

"So? This job as glamorous as you thought it would be?" he asked.

"Well, except for all the pee-your-pants terror, yeah," Jo answered. "Sure. But that Teresa girl's gonna live a life because of us. It's worth it, isn't it?"

Sam smiled and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah it is."

Jo looked back at the opening and realized something. "Hey, what if somebody finds that sewer down there, or a storm washes the salt away?"

"Both very fine points," Sam remarked. "Which is why we're waiting here."

"For what?" Jo asked.

Just then, the loud beeping of a large truck backing up was heard. Sam smiled and looked over his shoulder: a cement mixer was backing into the field, stopping just over the sewer entrance, and Dean was driving with Liz sitting next to him.

"For that," Sam answered and then waved at them to stop the truck. "Ho!"

Both Dean and Liz got out of the cab; the Winchesters then set up the cement mixer right over the entrance.

"You ripped off a cement truck?" Jo asked, amazed and impressed.

Dean grinned. "I'll give it back," he told her as they watched the cement pour on down. "Well, that oughta keep him down there till hell freezes over," he added, getting several chuckles from his siblings and Jo.

* * *

><p>After retrieving their gear from the apartment and left enough money with the landlord to cover the rent and the repairs for the damage to the walls; the Winchesters and Jo all drove back to the roadhouse, where Ellen was eagerly waiting for their return.<p>

"Jo!"

The Winchesters watched, smiling, when Ellen suddenly ran forward and glomp Jo the moment she entered the building; after more hugging and pleads that Jo wouldn't run off again to hunt, which would probably happen, they all sat at the bar and told Ellen about how the case went and who the spirit was.

"H. H. Holmes?" Ellen repeated, stunned. "It was _really_ him?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, it was him…H. H. Holmes himself."

Ellen was thoughtful as she cleaned several glasses. "I know that his body is encased in concrete, which means you couldn't salt and burn it; so how did you stop him from hurting anyone else?"

"We found his underground torture chamber," Liz explained, "and we put salt all the way around so he couldn't escape, and then we filled every opening with cement so that no one can accidentally free him, or any water can wash the salt away."

Ellen chuckled. "Good thinkin', guys."

* * *

><p>A few hours later, the Winchesters left the roadhouse and were soon back on the road, now heading for Indiana to look for Scott Carey.<p>

* * *

><p>AN: And this story is done! R&R everyone!


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